A New Battlefront
by erttheking
Summary: A portal has torn itself open in the Empire, and now they find themselves facing an entirely new foe, one that seems bent purely on their destruction. Patreon sponsored one-shot


Two months ago, the Galactic Empire had been

power in the galaxy. Yes, technically there had been other factions, but none of them truly posed a threat to the grip that the Empire had on over a million worlds. The Rebel Alliance had proven itself to be a nuisance, but it was little more than a band of terrorists who only lived because they had mastered the art of hiding. The Hutts lurked on the edge of civilized space, carving out their own little fiefdoms in the Outer Rim, ruling over lands the Empire couldn't or had no desire to reach. Aside from tiny enclaves such as this, there was no one who would dream of fighting the Empire in open battle.

That had changed. A portal that led to an unknown location had split wide open over the planet Corellia and an armada of unknown ships had emerged from it. Ever since then, contact from Corellia, and the Corellian System as a whole, had been spotty. But every message had been the same. We are under attack, please help. They're killing us all. Corellia had a disgusting level of pro-Rebel sympathizers, but it was part of the Empire. Its shipyards were among the largest in the galaxies, and the taxes it paid reflected that. Let Corellia see who would protect them when danger knocked, the Empire. Not the Rebels.

That was what Sergeant Dannat had thought initially. He had expected that the Empire would march into the system and smash the unknown ships in a fierce but brief battle. After all, they had been given thirty Star Destroyers for the task, a seizable task force that would be enough to bring even the most heavily armed planet under Imperial heel. Not that that said a good deal as, after all, the Galactic Empire was the only true power in the galaxy. But still, thirty Star Destroyers was a mighty force.

Then why was the battle not over? Why were the aliens still fighting? Why had the outcome not been a decisive victory, but they had lost a Star Destroyer for every alien ship they had managed to destroy? Why did the fight still rage on two weeks after the relief force had arrived? Sergeant Dannat couldn't help but feel icy terror clench him as he and his squad sat in the depths of one of the many trenches that had been dug around Tyrena. Above Cornelia, the alien ships and the Star Destroyers were still trading fire. And one of the ships was a massive behemoth that rivaled the Executor in size, one that had claimed half a dozen Star Destroyers by itself.

It terrified him. The Rebels were overly idealistic idiots who thought that destroying everything resembling authority would bring about some vague, nebulous freedom. But this? They would never stoop to this. Not the deliberate mass slaughter of the people they were claiming to free. They caused civilian deaths fairly frequently, but it was through negligence and being drunk on their own self righteousness. Not this mass slaughter.

"INCOMING!" a voice roared over his squad's comlink. "They're making another push!"

Dannat steeled himself. Twice the the aliens had attempted to take Tyrena with a push from the north, and twice they had been pushed back, albeit at a heavy cost. The last assault had been less than twenty-four hours ago, and the bodies from the clash had yet to be fully cleared. Even the fallen Stormtroopers, who had been given priority, still had many who littered the battlefield. Meanwhile, Dannat couldn't spot a single part of the battlefield that wasn't splattered with alien bodies and their multi-colored blood.

He took in the fortifications to the north of Tyrena. The Empire had not had to face a true assault from an enemy aiming to take territory since the days of the Republic, when it had faced the Confederacy. Despite this, they had thrown themselves into the defense of the city, with a force that did not reflect their inexperience in the slightest. Line upon line of trenches had been dug, each one fitted with barricades, E-Web blasters, munitions and stormtroopers.

In-between the trenches lay the Empire's vehicles of war. AT-STs and AT-ATs, the face of the Empire, towered above them, but they were not alone. 2-M repulsor tanks and SPMA walkers, the less glorified but more reliable workhorses of the Empire's mechanized forces. However, not all of them were operational. The battlefield stretched for miles in each direction, the trenches going well beyond Dannat's eyesight. But in every direction he saw burning husks of Imperial vehicles, adding to the dead that littered the trenches and the ground between them.

The only comfort there was that alien vehicles accompanied them. And they were such strange tools of war. Purple and pink, burning with fires that were the exact same color. The aliens, ranging from tiny to gargantuan, were the same. Red, blue, purple, gold, their armor bore an odd amount of colors. It felt uncanny to Dannat, like someone had made a mistake in painting their wargear. These colors belonged in a parade or a festival, not on these monsters.

"Sarge, I see them!" So could he. He took aim with his blaster. His squad had had ten people when they had first landed. It now had four. They were supposed to be rotated off the front line to a secondary position two days ago, but reinforcements from the south side of Tyrena weren't coming, they were getting hammered hard down there too. Until that changed, they were stuck here. And he had seen the ruins of other cities on Corellia. Burning, shriveled up corpses that had once been centers of commerce, buildings turned to rubble, streets turned to graveyards. And there were rumors that cities on the far side of the planet were simply gone, that the aliens had used weapons so strong that they had all been turned to glass. He shoved those thoughts away.

The aliens attacked with the same method they had used last time, and overwhelming forward surge with air support. Small, pink, one-man vehicles darted ahead of the rest, strafing the front of Imperial defenses with light fire. These were mere skirmishers though, the main backbone of the alien force was the purple tanks that lobbed arcs of plasma through the air at long range. In doing so, it fulfilled a strange role between frontline tank and self propelled artillery. They weren't the most durable vehicles Dannat had ever seen, but he had also never seen anything survive a direct strike from its main weapon, aside from the main body of an AT-AT.

There was nothing Dannat's blaster could do against either of these though, all he could do was focus on the infantry. A horde of them, a massive horde that stretched beyond the horizon, was mixed in-between the tanks. Squat, short aliens with pointed backpacks, thin, beaked ones carrying shields, tall, split jawed aliens who had strong personal shields, massive apes that wielded primitive yet cruel weapons, and hulking behemoths that were tanks in their own right. Lining up his shots, Dannat began to open fire.

The tiny ones did not appear to have a duty in the alien military aside from being expendable cannon fodder. They were ill disciplined compared to the others, Dannat had seen Rebels hold their position under fire better, their weapons were lacked range, and they died much easier. Dannat was able to pick a handful of them off, even from this distance, with simple body shots. This was a small comfort, as these tiny creatures were easily the most numerous of the alien army. No matter how many died, more emerged to replace them, supporting Dannat's theory of them serving a role of quantity, not quality.

As Dannat did what he could to put a dent in the enemy's numbers, his three surviving squadmates firing viciously alongside him, the sky became a battlefield as well. Alien aircraft filled the sky, two winged and wingless, teardrop shaped fighters filling the skies. In direct response, TIE fighters and interceptors rose up from Tyrena, soaring forward to meet the enemy air forces. Purple and green cannon fire filled the air, the TIEs supported by the few AA cannons that were still intact, as balls of fire began to consume craft.

Dannat returned his focus to the ground battle, there was nothing he could do about the skies. The aliens had reached the front-line, two layers of defense away from the one he and his men were in. It was a slaughter. The first layer had already been badly battered from the last two assaults, it was little more than a hole in the ground with a handful of E-Web blasters. By all rights, it should have been abandoned, but high command had refused to willingly concede ground to the aliens.

The larger aliens descended into the trench, and the unfortunate Stormtroopers still manning those positions never stood a chance. The larger aliens tore them to shreds with their weapons, many times not even needing to and settling for sending them flying with mighty blows. The panicked blaster fire simply wasn't enough to deal with the armored and shielded aliens, who only lost a few of their number. One of the massive, fur covered primates lifted a screaming Stormtrooper over his head. Dannat looked away, there was nothing he could do to help, and he knew the primates were among the most sadistic of the aliens.

They were over and through the first trench now, their vehicles funneling themselves through the narrow gaps in the trenches that had been established to provide Imperial mechanized forces a path to travel. A nearby AT-AT slowly swiveled its head and opened fire with its twin-linked heavy laser cannons. The shots tore into the alien tanks as they attempted to force their way through the thin divides in the trenches. Two of them exploded in great balls of fire after the first few volleys.

Dannat felt a small leap of hope. The last two times they had managed to turn the alien offense around had been too circumstances like this. Their vehicles had been turned into makeshift roadblocks, strangling the heavier elements of their force and leaving only their infantry to throw themselves against the inner lines of defense. Up until this point, while the sheer number of bodies being thrown at Imperial defenses meant that they never walked away from the fight without a bloody nose, the aliens had been unable to break the inner lines of defense.

But wear and tear had taken their toll. The prior assaults had done horrific damage to Imperial numbers, and the lack of reinforcements had only compounded the issues. The alien armor was blocked from advancing, but it was still opening fire. Arcing blobs of plasma soared through the air, smashing down all throughout the trenches and, to Dannat's horror, on the AT-ATs. Several repulsor tanks attempted to counter this assault, but they only managed to rack up a handful of kills before they were destroyed.

The results of the alien barrage were devastating. Quite a few managed to land directly inside the second line, each one sending a dozen Stormtroopers flying. That was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching sight that was the barrages hitting the AT-ATs though. The walkers were the might of the Imperial army, and they did not die easily. However, the orbs of plasma were devastating, and there was less counter-fire to suppress the enemy tanks. Even as the AT-ATs stubbornly fired, claiming a few more kills in the process, their hulls were battered. Metal plating was stripped away, falling to the ground blackened and shriveled, as the symbols of Imperial might were slowly torn apart.

The fire from many of the damaged walkers, and there were only a few that weren't damaged at this point, became erratic and thinner. The one near Dannat's squad was openly burning now, fire licking up its back. It lumbered forward, Dannat afraid that it might fall on them, and fired a volley that managed to claim one last tank kill. Then a ball of plasma hit its forward right leg directly in the knee joint. It melted through in less than a second and the AT-AT began to buckle at once. It teetered for a moment, firing a volley that soared well over the enemy army, before it tilted to the side and gracelessly fell to the side. It was burning and crippled, the crew possibly still alive, but it would not be contributing to this battle any further.

Dannat turned his attention back to the improvised blockade. Two of the largest aliens, ones in bright blue armor with shields on one hand and cannons for others, were inching around the ruined tanks. In perfect unison, they slammed their shoulders into the side of one. With some effort, they pushed it to the side, sliding it into the trench next to it. Many Stormtroopers had noticed this, and the fire of at least a dozen and most likely more was now raking them, but the aliens didn't even seem to notice. Instead they moved onto the second tank and shoved it aside with only moderate difficulty. Dannat had seen troopers struggle more with pallets of munitions. And with that, the aliens had cleared the way for their armored units.

The tanks, of which the aliens seemed to have an inexhaustible supply, pushed through the newly opened path. A brave AT-ST, of which there were now only a few left, valiantly charged forward, blasting away at the approaching column. Sadly, it was only able to deal moderate damage to the forward most one before it took a direct blast to its head, which was torn to pieces. The entire time, Dannat never stopped taking shots at the enemy infantry. In moments like these, every last thing you could do to contribute mattered. You had to put every last dent that you could into the enemy war-machine until you had been given the order to retreat. Dannat had not been told to abandon this trench, so here he and his men would stay. If they couldn't hold it, they would ensure as few aliens as possible got to the one behind them.

Sadly, between the loss of many of their walkers and the renewed push from the aliens tanks, the latter seemed more likely. "For the Empire boys! Her citizens are counting on us!" he roared, managing to score another headshot on one of the little aliens. The only response he got were screams that had more terror in them but defiance, but his men stood their ground. In the end, that was all he could really ask for. Most likely it would be the last thing he ever asked them for.

With only a handful of walkers in their effective area, Dannat was treated to the terrifying sight of a swarm of aliens surging over the fallen trench and charing through the no-man's land towards them. Blaster fire rose up to meet them, but far too few were falling, and of those who did, most were the smaller, less well armed aliens. The larger ones simply had better armor and shields that required concentrated blaster fire to drop. And then they were in the trench.

One of the massive primates was first into the trench, gleefully firing a bladed pistol that lodged a dozen glowing spikes in the chest of the nearest trooper. He was dead before he hit the ground, a stray blaster shot arcing up overhead. The giant turned to aim at Dannat, but the sergeant had gone for a thermal detonator and tossed it while he had been distracted. At this close range, the trooper was partially deafened by the explosion, but it threw the huge alien back, a hole tore into its chest. Somehow, it was still moving, roaring in anger and aimming its weapon. Five blaster shots later, it went very still.

"Form up! Overlapping fire! Don't let anymore in!" Dannat roared, rounding to face his two surviving men. They were already dead, burning scars torn across their backs. A gold clad alien with a split jaw was charging over them, heading right for Dannat. The alien, holding some sort of double bladed lightsaber, lunged forward. Dannat was only able to get two shots off before the gap was closed.

XXXXX

Field Marshel N'Tell Kadumee felt a sense of triumph as his energy sword drove into the chest of the Human. Wrenching it out, he took a quick moment to observe the battle unfolding before him. The portal they had found on the edge of Covenant territory had proved to be a valuable find, it had taken them directly to a Human inhabited world that had possessed a treasure trove of valuable targets. Their fleets had targeted the shipyards first, which had proven to be easy to destroy. For some reason, the Humans were much slower to respond to an attack than usual. N'tell had been disappointed. For all their faults, the Humans usually fought with a readiness and a tenacity that was nothing but praiseworthy. They understood the Prophets had ordered their demise, for they fought with the ferocity of those who knew that victory was their only means of survival.

After all orbital instillation had been destroyed, they had begun their standard procedure of landing and cleansing the planet of humans. The local forces had given a fight that had proven to be disappointing. Baring a few stubborn holdouts that N'tell had been proud to eliminate, the local defenders had been poorly trained and ill coordinated. He had heard reports of Humans fighting like this, but those had been at the very start of the war, when the Humans had thought they were alone in the galaxy. It had been understandable, if pitiful. This was simply insulting and had driven N'tell to terrifying rages that had sent many of his Uggnoy thralls fleeing in fear.

Then the stern resistance he had expected from the Humans had finally shown itself. Reinforcements had arrived to support the Humans, and the warriors they had brought were a much tougher breed. Many times N'tell had been forced to order his forces to retreat while attempting to take Human cities, and while the taste of defeat was bitter, he was pleased. A proper fight, one he would have to earn victory for, was upon him. He was no longer fighting scared children, but the same resilient Humans who had impressed him so many times.

Many times, N'tell could not help but wish that the Humans could merely be absorbed by the Covenant instead. If species as lowly as the Uggnoy and the Kig-Yar had places to belong and roles to serve in the Covenant, surely Humans could be of importance to them. As far as N'tell was concerned, the Jiralhanae being accepted into the Covenant made him wonder how there could possibly be a species that was too low for the Covenant to annex. But, sadly, the Prophets had made their orders known, and their words were the holy orders of the Forerunners. N'tell could only follow them and pray that there had been some mistake, and that when the Great Journey occured, the Humans would not be left behind. Until then, he was their butcher.

Today alone, he had claimed twenty kills. Many of his subordinates were clambering for kills, looking to be promoted to the rank of Major, some more ambitious ones even aiming to become Zealots. They had better hurry up then, he wasn't going to make it easy for them. They had finally broken through the human perimeter, and now was the deciding moment when warriors proved themselves. It applies to him too, he was hardly going to sit idly by.

A few anguished cries announced that his warriors had finished clearing this trench. There were many to go after this, but N'Tell was glad of it. A truly long battle would be the true crucible that separated the amateurs from the masters. "Forward!" he ordered, raising his sword and pointing it towards. The Wraiths were already bombaring the third and fourth trenches, the anti-tank fire of the defenders having been depleted to the point where they were only taking minor losses.

He heaved himself over the far edge of the trench, an easy task considering how shallow it was, it must have been dug in a hurry. He then broke into a full run towards the next enemy line, countless Sangheili right behind him. A few Uggnoy were waddling viciously an in attempt to keep up, all of them SpecOps operatives who had proven themselves. The rest of the Uggnoy were well behind them, along with Kig-Yars who were cautiously advancing with their shields up. A few had set up positions in the newly taken trench, sniping humans from a safe distance, but the majority of N'Tell's infantry was advancing, even if it was out of formation. But it did not matter, he would not hold back his warrior's right to honor because of the limitations of lesser species. The charge would not stop.

Scattered bursts of fire rose up to meet them, killing a handful of his warriors, but it was nowhere near enough to break his shields. His mandibles clicked with joy. He had seen countless battles and studied countless more as part of his training, he recognized the signs of an enemy that was being overwhelmed. They were fighting to the bitter end, but the damage being dealt by the Covenant offense was so all encompassing that the humans were collapsing at the seams. The Humans simply were being obliterated by the streams of plasma coming from both his infantry and his Wraiths, the Wraiths in particular tearing the trenches apart.

Soon, he was at the next line of defense. His energy sword felt no resistance as he carved through the armor of the white clad humans, cutting down three of them in a matter of seconds. Privately, he pondered why the Humans here were so different from what he had seen before. Their armor, weapons, vehicles, ships, none of them were familiar to him. Perhaps this was a Human holy world and they were its sacred guard. Perhaps a captive or two should be taken towards the end of the battle for interrogation, to clarify matters.

The few survivors that were still standing their ground were instantly set upon. Plasma tore into them, and one overexcited Minor smashed into a human so hard that the creature's neck snapped. Desperate fire responded, managing to claim the Minor and a Major, but the battle was already over. A few grenades from the SpecOps Uggnoy and one Zealot utilizing a Fuel Rod ensured that. Explosions rocked the handful of Humans, sending them flying through the air, while N'Tell descended on a pair who were scrambling to pull themselves out of the trench. He liberated their heads from their shoulders.

"Come brothers, they are on the verge of breaking!" In the distance, he could spot something of note. Hundreds of dropships were pouring down from the skies, into the city they were on the verge of breaking into. Reinforcements had evidently arrived and were landing further back to avoid being caught in the battle that was ragging overhead. So, the city itself would be a battle unto itself. Very well. Again, he pulled himself up over the trench. What he saw surprised him.

Reinforcements had already reached the perimeter defenses, evidently they had been landing far longer than N'Tell had realized. Their clambering walkers were being replenished and more Humans were setting up turrets. That was not what caught N'Tell's attention however. What his eyes were drawn to was the lone Human who had stepped out of the trenches and was idly walking towards his position.

N'Tell was surprised. The black clad human held an energy sword. Normally such a sight would drive him into a rage, a proud sword caste warrior having their weapon stolen from them, but that wasn't the case here. The weapon was clearly not of Sangheili make, it was blood red and only possessed a single, straight blade. It was a pure human creation.

He felt a pang of pride. The humans had adopted such an honorable weapon into their arsenal. He could not say for certain if they had copied his kind in doing so, but he liked to think that was the most logical conclusion. It truly was tragic that death and destruction was the fate of the Humans. But this Human had challenged him and he would honor that challenge.

Before he could act, however, there was an animalistic roar. A pack of Jiralhanae had broken through the trenches to N'Tell's left and had bounded onto the battlefield, a dozen in number. The Chieftain at the front had spotted the Human and brought his pack to bear, a feral look in his eyes. Rage tore through N'Tell as he charged without thinking. This Human deserved better than to die at the hands of barely sapient animals. He would have that Chieftain's head if it was the last thing he did.

However, in a few moments, a few wondrous moments, his anger was revealed to be misplaced. A few shots from the Jiralhanae arced near the Human, but every time his blade rose up to meet it. All solid projectiles vanished into thin air, while bolts of plasma were sent straight back to their origin. One Jiralhanae fell a carbine bolt that bounced off the sword and into his eye. Enraged at the Human's refusal to die, the Chieftain roared as he reached his target, bringing his hammer down. A quick, precise slice from the Human severed the hammer's head. A second the arm swinging it. A third, the Chieftain's head.

What happened next was nothing short of a work of art. Never moving faster than a brisk pace, the Human descended upon the Jiralahane. His blade carved through their armor and flesh with no resistance. Not a movement was wasted, and there was not a single blow that was not fatal. One was cleaved clean in half before the Human spun and drove his sword to the hilt in the chest of the Jiralahane that had been aiming at him from behind. A third fired a shot only to be the victim of a redirected blast, which the Human followed up on by severing the arm of a warrior that had been aiming a spiker.

With the precision and efficiency of a master, the human tore apart every last one of the Jiralhane. Excitement coursed through N'Tell. This Human was on par with the demon. He could face a Human in a straightforward and honorable duel. Oh how he had yearned for something like this. With a cry, he redoubled his charge. The Human had noticed him now, as it should be. There would be no trickery in this battle. Either he would prove himself as he had done over and over again, or he would meet an honorable defeat to a superior opponent. Either way, he would be content.

Then the Human raised his free hand.

N'Tell came to a crashing halt. He couldn't breathe, an invisible force was closed around his throat. The Human was doing this to him. N'Tell could tell, whatever contraption was in his hand, was causing this. N'Tell was outraged. He would not be denied his duel. He took a step forward, only to find his foot passing through clear air. Somehow, the Human had lifted him several feet off of the ground. He was floating in the middle of the air, choking, struggling, unable to do anything.

N'Tell's sword fell to the ground as he started to panic. Was this how he would meet his fate? Strangled to death like a defenseless child? No, he refused. He was a veteran of dozens of battles, a slayer of thousands of Humans, he would not meet such a undignified end. There was a plasma grenade resting on his side, a weapon N'Tell normally shunned, but he was left no choice. His hands grasped around it, flicking it to life. If the Human was to shun honor, he would do the same.

However, as he raised his hand, the Human tilted his. N'Tell's neck was forced to the side. The last thing he heard was a loud crack.

XXXXX

Vader looked on in disdain as he released the alien Its lifeless body fell to the ground, its grenade exploding harmlessly. For a moment, he had suspected that they might have had Force sensitives among their ranks, but no. They were merely pretenders wielding garish lightsabers. It irritated him. This entire incident irritated him. The second Death Star was under construction, the Rebels were still at large, his son had not been converted, he had more important things he should be dealing with. Instead, a pack of savages had drawn him away from his duties, along with all of Death Squadron.

He had brought the armada out of Hyperspace to find that the aliens had been on the verge of claiming a clear, if hard fought, victory in orbit. Their capital ship, which matched the Executor in size, had been the primary cause of this. Now the Executor was dueling with that ship, having a clear cut advantage due to the damage the alien ship had taken, but it was hardly an over and done deal. The battle had still been raging as Vader had ordered the 501st Legion onto the ground. The aliens had spent far too much time growing confident over defeating Stormtroopers who were far from the battlefields of the galaxy. The veterans of the 501st would prove to be a far more difficult opponent.

Already his forces were joining the belligerent defenders, highly accurate fire claiming the lives of many an alien who had attempted an advance. A few of them had had enough forward momentum to reach the trenches, and Vader could see instances of hand to hand combat breaking out. Mostly, however, the battle had regressed into duels between infantry and armor between both sides, the aliens taking cover in their newly won trench. The AT-ATs, AT-STs, and tanks he had brought had blunted their assault. He was not satisfied with that however.

Idly, he walked forward, his lightsaber deflecting incoming shots with ease. These creatures had violated Imperial space and distracted him from his true objectives. He would not settle for holding them back. Two utter behemoths of aliens, who resembled the Gen'Dai after they regenerated, charged forward at them. They had massive shields on one arm and cannons on the other, which they fired in unison.

A pair of concentrated green beams shot out, precisely aimed at him. He held up his hand, using the Force as a shield against the attack. Both beams slammed into the invisible barrier he had conjured, straining against it. Vader felt a ping of fatigue, these were powerful weapons the aliens were using. But it did not matter. With a slight heave, he tossed his lightsaber. Spinning through the air, it arced around the beams and into the backs of the aliens. A roar of pain echoed and one of the beams stopped. He had torn horizontally through one of the aliens, not bisecting it, but coming close. It lumbered forward as clutching at its side, orange blood spilling everywhere, before it collapsed to the ground, unable to support its own weight.

The other alien roared in fury, releasing its beam and charging forward. Instead of firing, it lifted its shield with the clear intent to crush Vader. Neatly sidestepping a downward blow, Vader tore into the alien's side. Up close, he noticed that the various parts of the alien appeared to be wriggling, almost independently. It was nothing more than an idle curiosity, however. Bleeding badly, the alien was still moving, shifting its entire weight to attempt to crash into Vader with a backhanded swing of the shield.

Vader could feel the sheer strength of the alien. He was certain that, if the blow impacted, it would shatter his suit and what was left of his body. If. Vader had no intention of lettering that happen. The shield was scattered with blaster marks, and it was clear that it had endured a great deal of punishment without suffering any form of debilitating damage. All the same, his lightsaber carved through it, taking most of the alien's arm with it. The alien roared, the shield falling to the ground in two pieces, and Vader stepped forward with a simple swipe. Tearing through its upper torso, the alien finally had the decency to die.

With that, Vader turned to face the alien horde. Reinforcements of their own had arrived, dropships deploying thousands of soldiers. In the distance, he could see a hulking figure approaching the battlefield, a bright purple quadruped walker. Silently, he ordered the 501st to begin a counter-attack as he continued to approach the enemy lines. He wanted this over with quickly. He had more important things to do.

Author's Note: My stories for one-shots usually have a lot of talking, I thought I'd mix that up this time around with a good old fashioned battle. Hope you enjoy it!

I would like to thank my Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, Ryan Van Schaack, ChaosSpartan575, and LordofNaught for their amazing support.


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